


Death of a deputy

by Mitch0_o



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitch0_o/pseuds/Mitch0_o
Summary: John Seed is trying to cope with his own feelings toward the deputy as he learn of her death.





	1. Chapter 1

She was dead.

John was angry, and he didn't understood why. He should have been happy to know that torn in his side wwas gone, but behold, it wasn't the case. He wanted to see her, to taunt her more, to make her suffer, to make her scream... to make her say “yes”, again and again. To make her scream his name.

Or not.

Why was he so angry? For a second there, he had wanted to kill the cult member who anounced to him the death of the deputy, but he didn't. He just stayed there, white as a sheet, unable to retain his bearing. Unable to understand his own feeling.

That woman had been trouble from the very beginning, but he had enjoyed the hunt. The way she sayed “yes” to save her colleague Hudson from more pain, the way she looked at him while he was branding her flesh with her own sin, that furor, that wrath in her eyes. Oh, he would missed that. But he felt there was more.

 

Suddenly tired, he send his usual suite of cultists and VIPs away to be alone with himself. He wanted to destroy something, wanted to kick someone, wanted to drink the pain.

The thought of thinking about sinning even more made him angrier. How can someone gets into someone's skin like this? What did she had to make him feel that way? He had taken women much more beautiful than this one, he had all he ever wanted, why did the news of her death made him feel so empty, so angry.

Was it because he had lost? After all, he wasn't the one to get her. She didn't reach atonement. No. There was something else. But he didn't want to think about it.

 

The night breeze got through his window and made him shiver. He had to sleep on that. Maybe Joseph would know. Or not. He souldn't talk about that to Joseph. All he had to know was that she was gone and they could continue to crush the resistance and prepare for the imminent collapse. Joseph didn't need to know about his feeling.

 

Lying awake in his bed, John was still thinking about her. How he wouldn't see her again. Gosh, was there some confiscated alcohol in the back? He could so use a drink right now.

Were they sure she was dead? The cult member who brought the news was talking about a truck explosion next to Hebane River. They seemed quite sure of their report.

 

John finnally got up. He needed that drink. There must be some alcohol somewhere in that goddamn place, he couldn't believe there wasn't any. He searched frenetically through the many boxes placed in the garage, confiscated food and items brought by the cultists to be taken to the bunkers the next day.

He finnally found what he was looking for. Whyskey. Low quality, but it would do.

 

He brought back two bottles and sat at the large dinner table, alone with a bottle and a cup. As he was pouring himself a drink, he started thinking again. Was he really going to throw away five years of sobriety for that deputy? That thought made him even more angry. She made him so angry. No. He was making himself angry. He had to get a grip.

 

Damn it all, that whiskey tasted so good. At least it wasn't that shit Faith gives everyone, that Bliss that made zombies out of people and animals. No, alcohol was a better poison.

 

After a few cups, John felt asleep on the table.

 

Something woke him up. It was morning. A faint light was coming through the windows. What could have wake him up like that? He felt his heart pounding in his temples. The alcohol had been a bad idea. It always was. A crackling sound from the radio. Someone was trying to contact him. That must have been what had woke him up. He checked his watch. Five in the morning. Gosh, who could be calling like that at that hour? Getting on his feet as best as he could, he got to the radio.

\- John here. Over.

\- Good morning, John.

Faith. That freaking junky. What did she wanted that early in the morning.

\- What do you want? Over.

\- Don't be that grumpy John. I think I have something here you'll want to see. Or rather, someone.

And she cut the line without adding anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this. I just had that short idea for a fic, but I don't know if I should continue or just let it like that. As usual, sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, I'm still learning and correcting mistakes I find as I go.


	2. Joseph's visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is visited by Joseph to announce to him who was captured next to Hebane River.

Faith's call had left John shook. Could he hope she had been talking about the deputy? Could he dare think she was alive? But even if it was the case, what did it changed? Nothing. She was not his. She was not meant to be. He didn't want her to be. Or he did. Could he bring her to atonement? At what price? Did he wanted to kill her himself? And if she was still death, this slight feeling of hope would have been for nothing. He didn't know, and thinking about it just made his headache worst.

His head was still pounding in his temples. His breath reeks of cheap alcohol. He needed a glass of water, a shower, hell, anything to make his ideas clearer. But not the bottle. That had been a bad idea.

 

The opened bottle was still on the table when he heard someone knocking on the door before opening it. Shit. Who was it that was here that early in the morning? John wasn't used to be seen in such a desolate state, dress only in an open bathrobe and boxer shorts, reeking alcohol and looking like he slept outside; and he hoped his position in the group wouldn't be affected by this inopportune visitor.

\- John? Are you there?

Shit. It was Joseph. The damn bottle. John didn't want him to see that bottle, to know what it means. He wouldn't understand. What was he doing here that early? First Faith, now Joseph.

Hearing someone move around the house but not receiving an answer, Joseph called again

\- John?

Shit. Not Joseph, the last person he wanted to see. While he only felt contempt for Faith, he didn't want to disappoint his brother. Alcohol was prohibited in the cult (as John was still calling his brother's group a cult in his head, he couldn't bring himself to call it a “religion”), and while his standing certainly wouldn't be affected by Joseph seeing the opened bottle and understanding what it meant, he knew it would disappoint him greatly.

So John hastily hide the bottle in a cupboard in the kitchen and threw his head into under the cool water spray of the sink to refresh himself and hide his awful night. He immediately regretted his choice : the water was full of Bliss his vision was affected for a moment. While some taps were directly connected to the rain collector, the kitchen sink was still connected to Hope County water system, taken directly from the Henbane River and of course, full of Bliss. Great. First alcohol, now drug.

Joseph crossed the living room at a slow pace and entered the kitchen, his hand on his holster, just in case the house had been taken by the resistance, explaining the absence of answer. He sight in relief at seeing his brother in the kitchen, but was taken aback by his general look.

\- John? Is everything alright?

\- Yeah, yeah, sure, answered John, raising his head and taking a kitchen linen to try drying up his hair.

Joseph took a good look at John. He obviously wasn't alright. John wasn't really the type to wake up that early, and he certainly wasn't the type to accept to be seen in such a disastrous dress. Not the usual proud John, a sin that was probably part of his personality until the day he dies.

Joseph thought he looked like a bulldozer had pass over him. And there was that faint odor of cheap whiskey hanging in the air around him, an odor Joseph knew to well not to recognize.

\- Don't lie to me brother, are you alright? Asked Joseph for a second time, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder,

John didn't answer right away. What could he say? That he didn't slept because of the death of the deputy? That it threw him in such an angry state that sin had been the first thing on his mind? That not only had it been on his mind, but that he had let himself being possess by it? He couldn't possibly tell him the truth, tell him his feelings. His brother didn't have time for that. And neither himself.

He tried regaining his composure and forced himself to show his best smile, the one with the mouth close of course, trying to hide his breath and the odor of alcohol still lingering in his mouth. That smile was what enabled him to get that many people to join the cult without violence (at first), a smile that promises the whole world and much more, a smile that promises everything is fine and always will be. A smile that says “Yes”.

He took a few step back from his brother before answering, still trying to hide his night drinking while knowing very well Joseph had probably already smell something fishy.

\- Everything is alright, I just had a bad night with a few nightmares, nothing to worry about, Joseph.

\- Very well...

Joseph didn't seem convinced, but didn't add anything else.

\- So, what can I do for you today? Asked John, still smiling like his life depended on it.

\- Well, I've come to bring you good news. I've just talked to Faith, it seems we have in our midst a high member of the resistance captured yesterday. Faith is currently dealing with the situation, and I thought you would be happy to hear the news, and help me with the Path, since this person caused considerable trouble in your area.

John's ears began ringing. Was he talking about who he thought he was talking about? He couldn't even bring himself to pronounce the word “deputy” the ask directly, so he answered something else, still maintaining his smile, that somehow began to loose of its certitude.

\- This is great, I've just talked to Faith thirty minutes ago or so, but she didn't tell me who that might be.

In his head, John was surprised to note he was repeating over and over “the Deputy, please be the Deputy, I beg you, please be the Deputy”.

The answer came as a cleaver, severing his hope in a moment notice.

\- It's pastor Jerome Fry. I thought you would be happy to hear the news as soon as possible.

John must have made an awful face, because Joseph suddenly looked worried. The smile had dropped from John's face. He had hoped so hard, and was even more angrier at himself for having hoped it was the deputy, angry at his own incomprehension of his feelings.

\- John? I ask you again: is everything alright?

Joseph came near his brother and but both hands on his brother's shoulders.

\- I need you with me more than ever. I need you to be fully there, and we will start by interrogating Jerome Fry to learn what he knows and I need you for this. I need you for his atonement, I need you to be alert.

He joined their forehead together for a moment.

\- Yes Joseph, answered John.

\- So I need you to drop that bottle. I don't know what happened, I won't ask anymore questions about that, we all have our moments of weakness.

John didn't answer.

Joseph took a good look at his brother, almost pitying him, before making his way to the living room, but stopped at the door and turned toward John.

\- Do you doubt me, John?

\- No, of course not. I'll follow you until the end, Joseph, you are my brother.

\- Good. Now go get yourself presentable.

Joseph made a few more steps toward the door, when John stopped him once more with the question that was burning his throat.

\- And... and the Deputy? What happened to her?

Joseph took a moment before answering. A moment that felt like an eternity to John. Joseph words cut once again.

\- The Deputy... won't be a problem anymore. I hope you understand that.

And on this, Joseph exited the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you once again for reading the chapter. Also thank you to the really nice comments asking me to continue, it really encouraged me to try adding substance. I know it is a bit obvious to where this is going, but as they say, the important is not the destination, but the road to get there.
> 
> As it is usual in this kind of fic, I added some rooms to John lavish wooden mansion, since he has to, you know, live somewhere, and I doubt someone as flamboyant as him would accept to live in the bunker with the small fries before the collapse.
> 
> And like the previous chapter, English is not my mother tongue, so trying to erase mistake I see as I see them, doing my best to have a coherent story, but I'm still clonky.


End file.
